


Whispered Confessions

by Kasen



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Sunflower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasen/pseuds/Kasen
Summary: After failing another attempt at cooking, Keith offers a dejected Shiro an idea —a new hobby.





	Whispered Confessions

“It’s... it’s burnt Shiro.” 

Shiro sighed heavily, shoulders drooping in defeat as he observed his failed attempt at cooking a decent meal for Keith. It was his third attempt making the same dish. He had bought extra ingredients with the understanding that failure the first time was inevitable. Failing the second time was a surprise, and after the third time Shiro simply accepted that he was doomed for life. 

“Sorry Keith, I wasted so much food too...” 

“We can still compost it,” Keith offered. Shiro nodded sadly as he watched the other take the pan containing black, crisp vegetables to the green bin located at the corner of their balcony, sitting closest to the sliding glass door. Shiro watched dejectedly as his best friend lifted the lid and dumped the contents onto the scraps of their previous meals. 

“I’ll order pizza?” Shiro offered. “I’m buying, obviously.” 

Keith shook his head. “Half-half rule always applies, Shiro.” 

Shiro knew it would be impossible to argue with Keith. He merely nodded and dialed the number he shamefully had memorized since undergrad. Shiro dragged his feet to the living room while he ordered their usual, asking for extra olives on Keith’s side as a bleak apology. Keith liking olives was something Shiro would never understand, but his friend’s alien taste was something he got used to after living with him for over two years and counting. Shiro thanked the pizza place while observing Keith scrub the burnt pan with a stainless-steel brush; something their household went through quickly thanks to Shiro’s stubborn attempts at trying to cook.  

“Pizza’s on its way,” Shiro told the other. 

Keith nodded and flashed him a small smile. “You look so sad,” he chuckled. 

Shiro huffed and plopped down onto their couch. “I am!” he admitted. “I’m cursed, Keith.” 

Keith laughed and wiped his hands on the yellow towel slotted between their fridge’s door handle before heading into the living room to join Shiro’s sulking figure. 

“You’re not cursed. You just need practice.” 

“Keith, I love you, but I would appreciate if you didn’t lie to my face.” 

Keith lightly kicked Shiro’s shin before sitting at the corner of the couch, facing him. “I’m not lying to you. Cooking meals —especially complicated ones— it takes time.” 

“Usually when someone sucks at cooking, it’s because they put a dash too much of salt or paprika or masala dosa.” 

“Masala dosa is a meal, not an ingredient,” Keith correctly quietly. 

“It is?” Shiro whispered. He shook his head to bring himself back from his confusion. “That’s beside the point. Actually no, that _is_ the point. I’m not making rookie mistakes Keith. I’m just not getting it.” 

“I’m the same with quantum physics,” Keith shrugged. “Which you seem to get just fine.” 

When Shiro continued pouting, arms crossed and eyes glued to the wall, Keith kicked his thigh playfully. 

“You know what I mean, Shiro,” he stated patiently. “Certain things click for some people and not for others. It’s okay to be bad at something.” 

Shiro continued sulking well until their pizza arrived. Keith, sweetest can be, excused his childish behaviour for being “hangry” and even offered Shiro his extra olives, which Shiro kindly declined.  

“Do you feel better?” Keith asked during a lull in their movie. They had seen it before, but Shiro liked the action and Keith was a sucker for the protagonist’s witty best friend.  

“I’m okay,” Shiro mumbled. He felt better after eating. He had sunk lower on the couch so his head could rest comfortably on Keith’s shoulder. Keith was wearing Shiro’s favourite grey hoodie, which acted as the perfect cushion for his ear. Keith brought his hand over his head to tuck the long strands aside and away from Shiro’s cheek, and Shiro murmured his thanks as they got comfy.  

“We can always try again. If you don’t mind me helping out...” 

Shiro considered it, but having adult supervision felt silly. He should be able to cook without Keith needing to mediate his every move. 

“I think I’ll call it quits for now. Maybe I’ll ask Hunk to put me through formal classes some other time.” 

“Maybe.” 

“I just want to create something that’ll make you smile.” 

“You don’t have to cook to make me smile.” 

“Food makes you smile,” Shiro countered. “You like good food.” 

Keith’s shoulder shook with laughter. “I can hear you pouting.” 

Shiro merely shrugged. 

“Don’t be bummed.” 

Shiro hummed, and Keith very gently patted his cheek. Shiro fought the urge to turn and kiss his friend’s palm. He had become an expert at fighting those urges, and instead nuzzled Keith’s shoulder with his cheek. The two fell into a comfortable silence as they watched the rest of their movie. Shiro noticed a slight change in Keith as the evening progressed. When the two sat up at the end of their movie to clean up the remains of their dinner, there was a fire in his friend’s eyes. Shiro wondered what the other had planned, but didn’t pry. Keith would tell him when he was ready. 

*** 

“I have a present for you,” Keith said one afternoon. Shiro turned away from his laptop and peered at Keith through the glass doors of their balcony. 

“Bud, why are you out there? It’s snowing.” 

Keith held a plastic sack in his arms, brushing the snow off the bag outside before placing it on the mat indoors. He jumped back into their apartment and slid the door shut behind him, making an audible shivering sound while rubbing his arms rapidly and jogging in place. 

“You didn’t wear slippers either, _god_ Keith.” 

“It’s fine. Now comere.” 

Shiro closed his laptop and stood, approaching his friendly cautiously. 

“Remember how a week ago you fucked up making a simple stir-fry like three times?” 

Shiro rolled his eyes at the jab. There was no sugarcoating it with Keith. 

“Yes, I remember.” 

“You said you wanted to create something that would make me smile.” 

“I said that?” Shiro squawked, blushing. He must have been really upset that night to say something so... 

“I have something that will help you with that. Open your hand.” 

“Are you going to miraculously give me the ability to cook?” Shiro joked while holding out his palm for Keith’s surprise. 

“Not cook. Create.” 

Shiro observed the sunflower seeds Keith poured into his hand. 

“You want me to... make something with sunflower seeds?” 

“Yup.” 

For some reason, Shiro pictured an equivalent of macaroni art but with sunflower seeds, and wondered if he could even do that much. He wasn’t much of an artist. That too was Keith’s domain. 

“Will it be light enough to stick to the fridge?” Shiro joked, imagining their magnets struggling to keep his art up. Keith raised a brow in confusion and glanced behind him at the sack he dragged in from the balcony.  

“I... don’t think so. I hid the pot under my bed, gimme a sec.” 

Pot? 

Oh.  

Shiro looked at the bag while Keith trotted to his room. It was a bag of soil. Duh. Keith was telling him to grow a plant. 

“Keith, I’ve never grown a plant from... scratch before,” Shiro warned as Keith returned with the plastic flowerpot.  

“From scratch,” Keith snorted. “You have a green thumb, Shiro. I’ve seen you bring plants back to life when I thought they were goners.” 

“You just— I dunno, just add water,” Shiro shrugged. It wasn’t hard, in his opinion. The plant did most of the work. Even if you accidentally neglected it, it had survival tactics. It stored its water and its enzymes slowed down certain processes to focus on others. All plants were genetically predisposed to enduring a variety of environmental conditions; so long as it wasn’t too extreme.  

“Well, my dad always grew sunflowers in our front porch,” Keith mentioned as he handed Shiro the medium-sized pot. “If you could grow one... I’d be really happy.” 

Shiro blinked at the red tinting Keith’s cheeks. His eyes were slightly downcast, focusing on the plant pot in Shiro’s grasp, his long eyelashes fanning along his entire lids, dark and long. Keith was very pretty, and Shiro stored another radiant feature of his friend into the back of his mind, refusing to admit that he might return to it at a later time. 

“I’ll—” Shiro gulped audibly. Fuck. His heart was hammering in his chest. “I’ll try my best.” 

Keith looked up quickly to smile at Shiro before turning to gesture to the soil. 

“I don’t really know if you need anything else, but that should be plenty, right?” 

“Yeah. Thanks Keith.” 

Keith waved Shiro off and excused himself to get back to his lab assignment, leaving Shiro with some seeds, an empty pot, a sack of soil, and the sight of his scarlet neck and red-tipped ears. 

Shiro gawked at Keith’s back until his friend was out of sight, and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“I can’t fuck this up,” Shiro whispered to himself. He didn’t know why, but he imagined that there might be something on the line depending on his failure or success. 

*** 

Much to Shiro’s relief, his sunflower sprouted with little complications. He watered it often, and kept it near the window for natural light, but far enough for it to grown without the chill of winter attempting to penetrate their humble home. He kept it near a lamp too, just to be safe. Keith would sometimes crouch beside Shiro and observe him at work, adding a tiny bit of their compost to the soil because he heard it would help. Besides the occasional compost deposit, Keith never offered to help. Not that he was expected to. This was Shiro’s project. Keith was there to see it and be happy.  

And to Shiro’s relief, Keith did just that.  

He smiled as promised at the sight of the sunflower growing, eyes twinkling as he glanced at Shiro pleasantly. 

“We should name it,” he said one day. Shiro had just watered it, and was gently wiping dust off its leaves for no reason other than to do something as Keith sat with him. That, and because it was surprisingly therapeutic.  

“Did you have anything in mind?” 

“Bartholomew,” Keith said deadpan. Shiro shot him a look, unfamiliar with the joke.  

“We can do better than that.” 

“What’s wrong with Bartholomew?” 

“This sunflower doesn’t seem very Bartholomew-y.” 

“Better than Sunshine.” 

Shiro sputtered, defensive that Keith had totally guessed his one-track mind. 

“I was definitely not going to suggest that,” he eventually managed to say. 

“Sure,” Keith smiled.  

“What about Sunny with an _O?”_  

“Sonny? Are we Texan now?” 

“He’s like our son,” Shiro joked.  

And then he flushed. 

“I mean— it’s just...” 

“Our son,” Keith snorted. He was smiling at the plant, far more collected than Shiro felt at the moment. “I’m strangely okay with this.” 

“Cool,” Shiro croaked. “Okay. Nice. Uh, yeah.” 

Keith playfully punched Shiro’s arm and praised him for keeping their son alive as he moved to stand.  

“We should label the pot,” Keith claimed while using Shiro’s shoulder to help himself up. “I’ll find a marker for you.” 

Shiro nodded dumbly, unable to form a coherent sentence, the _"_ _okie_ _dokie_ _”_ he managed to say something he decided didn’t count. Shiro waited for Keith to disappear behind the wall of their kitchen before slapping his forehead, and hissing in pain after realizing a second too late that he probably shouldn’t have used his metal prosthetic. Shaking off the pain, Shiro observed his sunflower. It had grown over the weeks into an impressive figure. According to the internet, it would flower soon; and seeds would be soon to follow. 

It was exciting seeing the fruits of his labor, pun intended. It was also something he and Keith shared in a more intimate way. Shiro felt his cheeks grow warm at the thought. Besides their movie nights, Shiro didn’t have an excuse to sit close to Keith on normal occasions —not without it being totally obvious and creepy. Now, with the sunflower as another valid excuse, Shiro and Keith sometimes sat thigh-to-thigh and arm-to-arm. Some days they sat in silence while Keith observed Shiro tend to the plant, and on other occasions, he joined Shiro in wiping the leaves while they spoke about whatever was on their mind at the moment. It was nice. Sometimes it was hard fighting certain kiss-related urges, but Shiro always managed. 

In that very moment, Shiro realized why he wanted to be good at cooking so badly. Besides wanting to bring a smile to the other’s face with his meals, Shiro wanted to hang out in the kitchen with Keith. He wanted to playfully banter with Keith. He wanted to elbow him aside while putting a tray in the oven and splash him in the face with water while washing vegetables. He wanted to be on equal cooking grounds with Keith so he didn’t feel self-conscious or in the way. He just wanted to be closer to Keith. 

Had Keith known all along? Even before Shiro figured it out?  

“Shiro, catch.” 

Shiro barely caught the permanent marker before it hit him in the face. Keith returned to his original crouched position beside Shiro, and watched Shiro carefully inscribe “SONNY” onto the edge of the pot.  

“You should draw a sun.” 

“I can’t draw a circle for the life of me,” Shiro argued while pointing to the O he wrote as evidence. 

“Here,” Keith said while placing his hand over Shiro’s. He guided the marker with ease, and Shiro laughed as Keith added sunglasses to the little sun. “Perfect.” 

“Yeah,” Shiro agreed while gazing at Keith. He felt it. From the bottom of his heart, he knew.  

Keith was perfect. 

*** 

“Are we technically eating our grandchildren?” Keith asked as he observed their sunflower’s head face the ground, it’s seeds heavy and pulling the plant down with the help of gravity. 

“I guess. We should keep some to replant after this one goes,” Shiro mentioned. 

“He’s dying?” Keith asked. Shiro blinked at his friend. Keith sounded genuinely sad. 

“Well yeah. We have to cut and dry the head for the seeds and then uproot the plant,” Shiro explained. He only knew the terminologies and procedures because he had looked it up a week ago after noticing the greying petals and drying leaves. It was sad, but apparently you had to start from scratch for big sunflowers like the one they had grown. _Didn’t your dad show you?_ Shiro didn’t dare ask. He didn’t want to come off sounding rude or disrespectful to Keith’s late father, but he was surprised the other didn’t know. 

“I guess pops just replanted them in the same place every year,” Keith mentioned, reading Shiro’s train of thought. He was too good at that. “I never really cared about the sunflowers until they were gone. I always thought they just gave up on living after...” 

Shiro gently cupped Keith’s cheeks at the sound of his voice growing hoarse. The other didn’t cry, but his eyes shone. Shiro rubbed the space beneath his long lower lashes with the pad of his thumbs, metal and human, unsure how else to comfort Keith.  

“They didn’t give up. It’s just in their nature.” 

Keith nodded and let out an embarrassed huff. He smiled awkwardly and looked to the side, unable to hold Shiro’s gaze.  

“We’ll grow another,” Shiro promised. “I have a green thumb, remember?” he asked while pressing his human thumb against Keith’s cheek. 

Keith nodded, not once pulling away from Shiro’s touch. “Thanks Shiro,” he smiled. “Can’t wait to have more kids with you,” he joked. 

“You’re an excellent husband,” Shiro grinned despite his heart doing several backflips. 

“And you’re an okay husband,” Keith returned. 

“Just okay?!” Shiro cried. 

“We never kiss,” Keith sighed dramatically. “Sometimes I think you don’t love me anymore,” he mumbled while crossing his arms, head still tilted to the side and eyes focused on the coffee table. Shiro knew it was a bit. Keith was just acting; overdramatizing something they’ve seen a thousand times on mainstream media. He was joking around just as he always did. 

Shiro didn’t care. 

He couldn’t fight the urge anymore. He tilted Keith’s head towards him and leaned forward, kissing him. 

“Sorry sweetheart,” Shiro mumbled against soft, warm lips. “I’ll be better.” 

Keith’s small gasp grew into a hungry growl as he grabbed Shiro by his collar and tugged him closer to return Shiro’s chaste kiss with a fevered one. 

“Good,” he breathed into Shiro’s mouth. “You’ve deprived me for far too long.” 

Shiro kissed him again. He peppered his cheek with vigorous smooches and brought his lips back to Keith’s mouth after a moment, deepening the kiss. Keith made all the right sounds. He sighed and moaned as Shiro licked the inside of his mouth, enjoying the taste.  

“God,” Shiro sighed as Keith’s hot tongue explored his neck.  

And then Keith stopped. 

He pulled away, hands still holding Shiro’s collar but arms extended a noticeable distance. 

“What’s wrong,” Shiro whispered, terrified. Did Keith just realize what he was doing and immediately regret it? 

“We can’t do this while he’s watching,” Keith said with a tilt of his head towards their wilting sunflower. 

Shiro caught on immediately, relieved.  

“Say no more.” Without warning, Shiro whisked Keith into his arms and headed to the living room. Keith lay on top of Shiro as they melted onto their couch, the two holding each other close as they resumed their earlier advances. Shiro felt a wave of contentment wash over him as he let Keith explore his mouth. Shiro was the happiest he had been in years, satisfied that the only sound in their quiet home being that of their lazy kisses and whispered confessions. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was for Sheith69min!
> 
> If you liked the fic and are shy/prefer not to comment on AO3, feel free to hmu on Twitter [@Kroligane](https://twitter.com/Kroligane/status/1089382812979994625)
> 
> Thanks for reading! ♥


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